


The Hanging Tree

by Ollieollieupandfree



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Familiar Logic | Logan Sanders, Gen, Human Morality | Patton Sanders, Kinda, M/M, Magical Realism b/c fuck you mr. burke from junior english, Unidentified Magical Creature Logic | Logan Sanders, Werewolf Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Werewolf Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Witch Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, think more fae than anything else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-27 04:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20754203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ollieollieupandfree/pseuds/Ollieollieupandfree
Summary: Logan isn’t quite human, and it’s something that’s been pretty easy to ignore since leaving his hometown. But after a magical accident and a series of bizarre visions and events, Logan finds himself forced to face his heritage and an ancient enemy if he wants to save his new friends.





	1. Chapter 1

The Hanging Tree had stood in Ravensbend since before anyone had come to town. It was there when the small town was colonized. Its bows had held criminals, witches, and worse. The Hanging Tree was reared on blood and the screams of the dying, and no one had gone near it since the twenties. The Hanging Tree was a dead husk; until one day in 1999, Dorothy Memrys and her husband Larry were returning from a picnic in the woods, and found a baby.

Logan was born with pale skin and eyes as red as the blood that seemed to leak from his lips. Dot had immediately scooped the small boy out of the gnarled roots that cradled him and looking him over. Logan was an incredibly healthy baby, if it hadn’t been for the inexplicable blood dripping from his lips like jewels from a dragon's scales.

Dot had turned to the Hanging Tree and held up the baby, a question in her eyes. The dead husk of The Hanging Tree said nothing, but the frayed noose still hanging from its largest branch swayed in an impossible wind and seemed to graze the baby’s cheek like a mother’s touch, before pushing him closer to Dot’s chest. Dot thanked the Hanging Tree as she cradled the small child, his snow-white skin warm and alive, even as he stared up at her unmoving.

Logan was raised as normal as he could be, his red eyes hidden behind rust-red locks and large glasses. He wasn’t human, and that was something that everyone knew. The town never treated him badly - nobody would dare disrespect a gift from The Hanging Tree - but he wasn’t welcome. Logan had left the town as soon as he could. He never intended to return to Ravensbend, to the Hanging Tree that had mothered him. Logan left and didn’t look back.

* * *

  
  


In a big city, nobody looked sideways at Logan. In a small town like Ravensbend, where everyone knew the Hanging Tree, Logan was an oddity- an entity. But in the city, a place where no one knew the Hanging Tree, Logan was simply assumed to be an albino with expensive hair dye. 

College in Florida - living in Florida - was hard. Constantly shielding himself from the sun and struggling to be listened to in a class of hundreds, Logan found himself content. Not happy, but content. He didn’t have friends, but he was still rather young, and he’d only just gotten to college. Making friends was something Logan had always struggled with. It just wasn’t something that he was good at. It wasn’t something he particularly wanted to be good at, either. People were strange and made him uncomfortable. Besides, he didn’t need friends to graduate college, or be himself. I fact, it was better that he didn’t have friends. Friends didn’t understand the flowers that seemed to bloom all around his apartment. Friends asked questions about his past, about why his eyes shone brighter than other people’s, or why he didn’t actually dye his hair but it was still the same color of old blood.

No, Logan was quite content with himself and his… well, it wasn’t quite a job, was it? Working as the familiar of a reclusive, college-aged witch? He certainly didn’t get paid. But he did get the satisfaction of knowing that he was helping. And, as loathe as he was to admit it, he enjoyed not constantly being alone.

“Logan,” Virgil said, holding out his hand as he focused on the potion in front of him. Logan sighed softly and grabbed the bottle Virgil needed, handing it to him quickly. “Thanks.”

“What are you even making?” Logan asked curiously.

“Hair of The Dog,” Virgil said.

“Isn’t that a drug? Virgil, am I helping you run a meth lab?” Virgil looked away from his potion and fixed Logan with a glare.

“Do you ever think before you speak?”

“No, that’s why I have you.”

“It’s a colloquial name, Logan. It’s more commonly known as Wolfsbane Potion, it helps werewolves stay calm during their cycle. I need to focus, it can’t go bad.” Virgil stepped away from his stove to look for something in the pantry.

“How would you tell if it went bad?” Logan asked, looking at the bright pink potion.

“Well, it’s supposed to be clear. It should be clearing up now, after I add a bit of wolf hair, it’ll be done fully.”

“So a color like, say, pink, would be bad?”

“Yes,” Virgil said. “Very. It would mean I did something wrong, and that it’s changed into a transformation potion.”

“Do they use the same ingredients?”

“Yes. But a different order.”

“Would we ever get in trouble for something we _didn’t_ do?”

“Of course not. Why?”

“Because we _didn’t_ do it right.”

“We what!?” Virgil yelled, rushing over to the potion and staring at it in shock. “What did we do wrong!?”

“Maybe we weren’t supposed to do it on a gas stove?”

“Don’t get smart with me, Logan.”

“That was a genuine suggestion.”

Virgil frowned and looked over the ingredients list, murmuring to himself as he went over it.

“Hey, should it be bubbling?”

“Hush, Logan, I need to figure out what went wrong. I’m pretty sure we did everything right!”

“Virgil, I think your potion is boiling.”

“Logan, I said quiet!”

Logan sighed and took a few steps away from the over-bubbling potion.

“We did everything right, this is impossible!” Virgil said, looking over at the pot. “Logan! Why didn’t you tell me it was boiling!?”

“I did.”

There was a sequence of events that happened in the course of a few seconds, and they occurred as such;

First, Virgil took the potion off the stove. Then, Logan turned the stove off. And then, at the same time, a window shattered and the potion exploded. Finally, Logan lost consciousness.

* * *

  
  


Waking up after being knocked unconscious is something Logan finds is extremely unpleasant. His head is addled by a splitting headache, and his mouth feels like he swallowed cotton. He’s not quite sure how he got knocked out, just that he did.

“Virgil?” Logan asked, sitting and letting the world stop spinning and his headache to recede before standing. There is no answer to his call.

“Did he get knocked out, too?” He muttered, looking around and straightening his broken glasses. Suddenly, Logan’s headache returns as he falls to his knees.

Images flash through his mind. A raven sitting on the Hanging Tree, a big black wolf, a man in the shadows, Virgil, himself, two unfamiliar men.

“What the fuck!?” Logan yells, holding his head between his hands and panting softly. He sits there for what feels like hours but was probably only a few minutes, before feeling something cold and wet pressing against his hand. Looking up, Logan is met with the big black wolf from his vision, purple eyes staring at him, bewildered.

_ Logan!  _ The voice that echoes in his mind is uncomfortably familiar to Logan. He’d recognize it’s dumb, Floridian accent anywhere.

“Virgil!?”


	2. Chapter 2

Logan has, all things considered, heard, said, and seen weirder things. After all, he was born from a tree. His friend turning into a wolf is hardly the strangest thing that’s ever happened. But, apparently, it is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to the witch.

“Virgil, we’ve literally played tag with a possessed doll, why is this weirder to you?”

_ Because I don’t want to be a wolf! And I don’t want to get fleas! _

“You aren’t going to get fleas,” Logan sighed. “Wolves don’t get fleas.”

_ How do you know that? _

“I read it somewhere. What do you want me to do, get you a flea collar?”

_ I wouldn’t mind it… _

“You know what!? Fine! Get in the car, Virgil, I’ll take you down to the fucking PetSmart and get you a flea collar! You want me to pick up a fucking bag of dog food, too?”

_ Jeez, you’re angry. _

“I apologize, but I just got knocked out, had a psychic vision, and found out my only friend-slash-boss has been turned into a wolf!”

_ Wait, you what? _

“Yes, I got knocked out! This is ridiculous! My head still hurts!”

_ Not that!  _ Virgil let out an unhappy whine.  _ Why didn’t you tell me you had a vision?  _

“Because it’s never happened before. I thought maybe it was just, like. A side effect of getting knocked out.”

_ Wait, how did you get knocked out? _

“Uhm. I don’t know. I heard a window break and the potion exploded, and then I was unconscious.”

_ Do you know what broke the window? _

“There’s a rock on the counter, but I don’t know who threw it.”

_ Strange. I have a friend who might be able to help us. _

“Okay, then let’s go see him.”

* * *

  
  


Logan quickly found that Virgil had been completely serious about that flea collar, as the newly-turned wolf kept whining until he stopped at PetSmart.

“Is there any way to keep you out of my head?” Logan muttered, leading Virgil through the aisles of the PetSmart, ignoring the looks of workers as Virgil padded obediently next to him. “What color do you even want?”

_ Purple! _

“Virgil, wolves only have red and blue photoreceptors, and not good ones at that. You can’t even see proper purple.”

_ Why are you being mean to me? I’m just a puppy! _

“You are a giant, black wolf, Virgil. I hardly think that counts as a puppy.” Logan sighed and grabbed a purple collar, walking back to the counter to buy it.

_ Logan! _

Logan looked over his shoulder to see Virgil had been distracted by… a dog hoodie. “Oh, my god.”

_ Please? _

“Absolutely not.”

_ But I need it! _

“You absolutely do  _ not  _ need a hoodie.”

_ But it’s all purple and patchwork! Logan, please? _

Logan looked at the hoodie, then at Virgil’s begging face, and sighed. He stomped back over to the hoodie and grabbed the biggest size before furiously going to the cash register. Virgil followed him happily.

“I expect a bonus when you get back to normal,” Logan sighed, helping Virgil into his new things.

_ I don’t pay you? _

“Exactly. I expect to start being paid.”

_ You’re mean. _

“I dislike dogs.”

Virgil stuck his tongue out and followed Logan back to the car. Logan sighed deeply ran his hands through his hair, just wanting to fix this quickly.

* * *

  
  


“Where is this friend?” Logan asked, parking the car outside the restaurant that Virgil directed him to. “Will he be waiting for us?”

_ Yes,  _ Virgil said.  _ Did you bring a knife? DC can be a dangerous person if he doesn’t like you, or thinks you’re useful. And trust me, he’s going to like you. _

Logan frowned and fingered the small pocket knife in his pocket as he stepped out of the car, letting Virgil out after him.

“Am I going to be in danger?” Logan asked.

_ Maybe. It depends on if DC’s familiar is there. _

“What’s his familiar?”

_ A werewolf named Remus. He can sniff out creatures, but I don’t know if it extends to, uh, people like you. _

“And what am I?”

_ Don’t ask me that, Logan, I don’t know. Something not right. _

Logan didn’t answer, only entered the restaurant. There was a man leaning against the counter. He was dressed in black and green clothes and had a large mustache. He grinned when he saw Logan, immediately waltzing over to him.

“I take it you’re who we were waiting for?” the man asked, grin turning lascivious as he slung an arm around Logan’s waist.

_ Remus, _ Virgil said, a growl low in his throat.

“Uhm. Yes, Mr. Remus.”

Remus’ grin grew. “Oh, I like this one,” he purred, leading Logan to the back of the restaurant. The patrons of the restaurant didn’t even seem to notice or care.

Logan looked down at Virgil nervously, being dragged along by Remus. Virgil nudged his hand encouragingly. “So, you’re DC’s familiar?”

“Mhm~” Remus purred. “And you’re Virgil’s.”

“Did you know him?”

“Oh, yes~” Remus said, spinning and pushing Logan against the wall. “He trained with DC when they were younger. Twins are always so stuck together, I should know.”

Logan stiffened and watched Remus anxiously. The mustached werewolf leaned forward and smelled Logan’s neck, purring lightly. “Wh-what are you doing?” Logan squeaked, flinched when Remus slipped a hand into his pocket. “D-don’t do that!”

“Sorry about that,” Remus laughed, pulling away and holding up Logan’s knife. “But we can’t allow this near DC.”

Logan relaxed against the wall, glaring at the werewolf. “Pervert.”

“Perhaps,” Remus said. He sobered quickly. “I am sorry, though. Did I scare you?”

“Quite a bit, actually,” Logan said.

“Sorry. I’d never, uh. Actually do that.” He awkwardly ruffled the younger man’s hair. “C’mon, DC is waiting.”

Logan followed after Remus, still slightly in shock. He looked down to Virgil for help, but the wolf just shrugged as if he didn’t know what to do. Remus stopped outside a door and held up a hand against Logan’s chest.

“Sorry, Deceit doesn’t like animals. Your dog needs to stay out here.”

“Oh, uh. This is Bones. He’s actually my… epilepsy dog. He can tell when I’m going to have a seizure. Are you sure he can’t come in?”

Remus frowned. “Uhm. I suppose you can. Sorry.” Remus opened the door to the office, leading Logan and Virgil in.

_ Nice job with the epilepsy thing! Can also explain away visions if you have any!  _

“Oh,” Logan muttered. “Yeah, I suppose so. I didn’t even think of that.” One of Remus’ ears pricked up and he looked at Logan, confused. Logan pointedly ignored him, hoping the other familiar would chalk it up to imagining things.

“So. You’ve come for help,” A different voice said, spinning around in his chair. Logan quirked an eyebrow as the man spun around and around, seemingly having too much fun to care about actually looking cool. “Virgil’s little friend.”

“Yes,” Logan said, sitting down across from him. “Uhm, Mr. DC? Can you stop spinning?”

DC stopped spinning, looking at least a little ashamed of himself. “Right. Sorry. How can I help?”

“There was an accident involving a Wolfsbane Potion,” Logan said, resting a hand on Virgil’s head. “I need help reversing it.”

“I see.” DC turned to Virgil with a smirk. “Hello, Virgil. Seems you’ve gotten yourself into quite the mess.”

“Wait, it isn’t an epilepsy dog…?” Remus muttered.

Pointedly ignoring Remus, DC leaned back in his chair. “And what are you prepared to give for my help?”

Logan looked at Virgil for help.  _ Don’t offer anything. DC is part-Fae, he’ll twist your words around. Wait for him to make an offer. _

“What do you want?” Logan asked, leaning against the chair.

“I’m not sure yet,” DC hummed, standing and walking around Logan’s chair. “You’re certainly interesting looking.” He ran a hand through Logan’s hair, humming at the fine strands. “Your eyes and hair are so red, almost like blood. How interesting…”

“I-I’m albino,” Logan said, repressing a shiver at the Faerie’s touch.

“No, you aren’t. I know when people are lying. Besides, your hair is naturally this color. What are you?”

“I don’t know,” Logan said truthfully, grip tightening in Virgil’s fur and inexplicable tears building in his eyes as DC continued to inspect him.

“You were raised by humans,” DC observed.

_ Logan, stay calm,  _ Virgil said, nuzzling him.  _ Keep your head and your voice level.  _

“It’s cute that you and Virgil can still talk like that,” DC cooed. “And interesting that he wants you to stay calm. I wonder what happens if you don’t…” DC looked to the side and nodded.

Virgil growled lowly, body stiff beside him.  _ Logan, it’s imperative that you stay calm. _

Logan stood and backed away from DC. “What are you doing? What’s going?” he asked, panic rising in his voice. Logan liked to think of himself as a calm and collected individual. And he generally was, but as much as he could usually control his anxiety, moments like this had a tendency to send it spiralling.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” a voice behind him said. Logan jumped and spun around, finding himself face to face with a man wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket. “This won’t hurt ya much.” The man pulled out a small knife and grabbed Logan’s arm, holding him still despite the other man’s determined struggling. He pressed the knife against Logan’s arm, dragging it downwards and forming a long, deep cut.

“Stop!” Logan yelled, yanking his arm back, tears gathering in his eyes.

_ Logan, stay calm,  _ Virgil urged, nuzzling him.  _ Let’s just get out of here. _ Logan nodded and backed towards the door.

“Don’t let him leave!” The sunglassed man said, looking at DC and saying something in a language Logan didn’t know.

Remus stepped in between Logan and the door. “So sorry,” he laughed. “But I have my orders.” Virgil growled and jumped on the werewolf.

_ Logan, you need to calm down,  _ he said, voice as soothing as possible as he held Remus’ throat in his jaw. DC held up a hand to stall the sunglassed man, recognizing the threat in Virgil’s posture. Logan took a few deep breaths, backing towards Virgil.

The man in sunglasses shot forward and grabbed Logan’s arm, pulling him against his chest and burying his face in his neck. Logan stiffened at the feeling of fangs poised against his neck.

DC grinned. “It seems we’re at a stand still. You have one of my familiars, I have yours,” DC said to Virgil, licking his lips. “And what an interesting familiar he is.”

“Leave me alone!” Logan said. The vampire holding him laughed, digging his fangs into his throat. “I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Immediately, it was as if the world fell to a standstill. The vampire behind him immediately let go and stumbled back. Remus and Virgil cried out in pain, and DC clamped his hands over his ears.

Logan panted softly, looking around the room anxiously. “Wh-what’s going on?” he asked, tears leaking down his face. “I don’t understand!”

_ Calm down, Logan. Let’s get out of here.  _ Virgil carefully backed away from the three men in the room, tugging Logan by his shirt. Logan stumbled a bit, but followed the wolf out. Logan looked around at the vines that now crept over the walls and broken windows of the restaurant as he and Virgil left the room, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

“Virgil, what’s going on?” he asked, significantly calmer but still a bit overwhelmed.

_ Let’s find someplace safe and I’ll explain. _

“Good. Because there’s a lot I don’t understand right now.”

_ I know. But let’s find somewhere safe before I can explain. I have a friend who can help get you patched up. _

The car ride to Virgil’s second ‘friend’ was quiet and tense. Logan spent in pain at the cut on his arm and the punctures in his neck. Neither had stopped bleeding, and Logan was scared that they never would. He was eager not to make passing out a habit, but the woozy feeling in his head seemed to be trying to combat that wish.

“Why do I feel sick?” Logan asked faintly, stopping the car outside a veterinarians office.

_ It’s either blood loss or the vampire’s venom. Given what you are, I’m inclined to say venom. Wait in the car, I’ll get Patton to come help you out. _

With that, Virgil was out of the car and into the office, leaving Logan alone to laminate on his thoughts. He returned a few minutes later, a young man with curly blonde hair and blue eyes in tow. The man, who Logan assumed was the Patton that Virgil mentioned, seem worried as he helped Logan out of the car and into his office.

The office was… not a place Logan would like to spend a lot of time. It was pink and had painted paw prints all over and was, in general, a headache-inducing place to sit. Patton puttered about at his side, bandaging the injuries and feeding him some sort of medicine that was probably only meant for dogs, but might have been for humans, too. Across from him, sat Virgil, looking intimidating and pensive.

  
_Logan, tell me what you know about Alraune._


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, real quick,” Logan said. “That was  _ the  _ dumbest way to start this conversation. I’m trying to find out about my own personal history, and you’re over here asking me about some German book published in 1911?”

_ I’m trying to help! Jesus! Just tell me what you know about this stuff! _

“I don’t really know anything about it,” Logan sighed, rolled his eyes. “I know it’s a German book from 1911, but that’s where my knowledge ends.”

Virgil nodded.  _ Nineteen years ago, Dorothy and Leonard Memrys found a baby boy underneatht the Haning Tree of their town. _

“Yes. My mother and father took me from the Hanging Tree at its urging.”

_ Logan, you were not the Hanging Tree’s to give away. You see, the reason it is dangerous for you to cry or get overly emotional, is because you’re a mandrake. _

“Those gross little baby things from Harry Potter?”

_ No. Mandrakes, also known as Alura Une, are German sprites. While generally female, they can also end up being intersex, however no male mandrakes have ever been recorded. Mandrakes are born from the blood of dying criminals. Well. Some say it’s blood, but legends can differ to inclue semen, or just any sort of bodily fluid. A hanging tree is a good place for a mandrake to form. _

_ What’s confusing me is that the hanging tree of Ravensbend went out of use one hundred years ago. It makes no sense for you to be nineteen years old- especially given that mandrakes don’t mature until they’re at least one hundred. _

Logan frowned. “A-are you saying I’m over one hundred years old? Virgil, I have pictures of myself, as a baby, with my parents! I can’t be that old!”

“Actually, you can,” Patton said, piping up for the first time. “You see, mandrakes - especially as babies - need to be taken care of, no matter what. If you weren’t getting enough care from the Hanging Tree, or your true parents, then it’s likely you could have reverted to a form that would encourage that care. Mandrakes want to be wanted. They need it, so they’ll conform to anything they think will get them love.”

“I’m a gay albino who ran away from home more times than I can count.”

“Because you thought that would get you love. It doesn’t make sense to you now, but it made perfect sense back then. Running away means your parents go looking for you, meaning they’re very happy and attentive when they find you. It’s a strange way of thinking in a more adult head, but to a younger mind it makes perfect sense.”

“So I, what? Blocked out memories of my true childhood because I didn’t think I was getting enough attention?”

“Logan, the childhood you remember is still your true childhood, as you put it. It just wasn’t your first.”

“So I’m a plant made from a dead person’s blood, or possibly semen. Awesome. What does that mean?”

“It means that you have certain powers. Plants will respond to you, especially a certain kind. From what Virgil told me, some sort of plants are what your true form is the closest to. The other power is your voice. Similar to a siren but much more dangerous, mandrake voices are deadly. Especially when you sing, cry, or scream. Do you ever remember crying or yelling? Or any anger at all?”

Logan shook his head. “No. My parents were always quiet when they were angry, and I learned it from them. I didn’t cry or yell or even feel significant emotions.”

“It’s likely that your parents knew what you were and taught you certain behaviors to prevent it from negatively affecting you.”

“Right, because hiding what I am is so positive.”

_ Don’t think like that,  _ Virgil chimed in.  _ Your parents love you, Logan. They wouldn’t have taken you if they didn’t, and you wouldn’t have stayed with them if you didn’t feel loved.  _

Logan sighed and rested his head in his hands, a headache building behind his temples. “Okay. So what do I do?”

“There… isn’t much you can do,” Patton said, shrugging. “It doesn’t take much to control your powers, just a level head.”

“How can you hear Virgil?”

“Oh. Virgil and I are bonded in a similar way to you and him. I’m not his familiar, but we are very close. So he’s able to project his words into my head. It isn’t that complicated when you think about…”

Patton’s words seemed to become muffled and dissipate as Logan’s headache grew to a piercing pain just behind his eyes. Logan let out a smaller whimper as images flashed behind his eyes. The men from the first vision - one he now knew was Patton - and an unidentified man that looked frighteningly like Remus. More images flashed in his mind; himself and the Remus look alike kissing, an address, a tall woman with white skin and blood red eyes. More and more images flashed behind his eyes until Logan could no longer decipher them. They were just mindless pictures, no rhyme or reason.

And then it stopped.

The scene around him was peaceful. He was in some sort of field with the type of sunlight that would usually hurt his eyes and send him indoors. He was laying on a bed of clovers and grass. Not soft grass, like in movies. Just normal grass and bunches of half-broken clovers. Overall, not very comfortable. The woman from before was laying beside him. He turned to her, and she gently cupped his face.

“My baby,” she said, smiling with too many teeth.

“You’re not my mother,” Logan heard himself say absently.

“Oh, but I am,” said the woman with too many teeth. “I raised you.”

“Who are you?”

“I am your mother, little one. I have always been your mother.”

“No. My mother is the Hanging Tree, and so is Dorothy Memrys.”

“Yes, I suppose they do count as your mothers. But I was the one who raised you first. The one who shaped how you look,” she traced a long, sharp nail around his eyes. “I’m the one who gave you your name, little Logos.”

“No... “ Logan said, frowning. “No, my name is Logan.”

“Oh, my little one. It is now, but it was not always. No matter, you’ll find out who you are soon enough. Mommy promises.”

“You aren’t my mother…”

“Yes,” the Woman With Too Many Teeth said, digging her nails into Logan’s eye sockets until blood dripped down his face. A sense of calm washed over him as she plucked his eyes out, watching his body lay there from the outside. “I am your mother, little one. I’ve always been your mother.”

“No,” Logan repeated. “No. NO!”

  
  


Logan’s eyes snapped open, his breathing heavy as he looked around the darkened room. Patton and Virgil must have taken him somewhere, because this wasn’t the office had been in before. Opening up the curtain on the windows by his bed, Logan reared back at the sunlight that flooded the room. He quickly looked away and to the bedside table, where Patton had plugged his phone in. Opening up his phone, he noticed two things. The first, was that he had slept until the next day. The second, was that he had a text from an unknown number.

[[From: Unsaved Number: Hey, Logan! It’s Patton. I just wanted to let you know that Virgil and I are heading back to his house to search for clues. Get some rest, keys are on the hall table by the door if you leave.]]

Logan frowned slightly at the text and saved Patton’s number, quickly pulling some spare clothes; based on how big they were on Logan’s slight frame, they were Patton’s. He sighed softly and headed out, locking the door behind him and looking around for his car.

[[From: Patton: P.S. we borrowed your car.]]

Looking down at the new text, Logan sighed louder. “This is fine,” he muttered. “Looking at the address of Patton’s place, it isn’t far.”

He was planning on finding Remus’ look-alike, and hopefully getting some answers. Whoever this man was, he knew something that Logan and Virgil didn’t- possibly something that could help them. And so, Logan set off down the street to the address in his vision.

Getting to the address wasn’t the hard part. What  _ was  _ hard, was actually going up to door of the imposing frat house in front of him. Logan had never been to a frat house before- not even in the line of his duties with Virgil. So just going up to the door and asking for someone who’s name he didn’t even know was more than a little unnerving. But he needed answers, and so he knocked.

Whether it be fate or just plain luck, the man from the vision opened the door. He was tall, muscular, handsome, and very,  _ very  _ shirtless.

“You!?” the man screeched, voice tinged with the same strange accent that Remus’ had held.

“Me?” Logan asked, feeling conffused. “Uhm. M-my name is Logan…”

“I know,” the man said. He looked around behind Logan and grabbed his arm, swiftly pulling hom inside. “I’ve been having visions of you. Come on.” Ignoring the jeers of his housemates, the man pulled Logan through the hallways of the frat house.

“H-hey, what are you doing!?” Logan demanded.

“We need to talk somewhere more private,” the man growled. “Come on.”


End file.
